The Office Silence

The printer groans, a restless beast,

where my thoughts drown in the ceaseless hum.

Each click, each whir, a monotonous feast,

so much hope lodged in a half-full drum.

I clutch my pen, waiting for the ink,

while outside, life drifts through a hidden door.

Fingers stiffen as I begin to think,

how small this space feels, how I long for more.

But in this quiet, voices blend and bend,

like paper stacked, pressed tight beneath a weight.

What fills my heart feels like it’s hard to mend,

a noise beneath the stillness, a silent fate.